


Black Coffee

by nelyonelyo



Category: Sunset Empire
Genre: friendly banter between friends, light symbolism lmao, no trigger warnings or harsh themes here this is just fluff honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-31 06:36:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelyonelyo/pseuds/nelyonelyo
Summary: Maevern takes Martyn out to get coffee and discuss his bad choices.





	Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FossilizedGrablin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FossilizedGrablin/gifts).

Martyn sat down at the café table and fidgeted with the lacy hem of his dress. He occasionally glanced across the table and made awkward eye contact with Maevern, then diverted his gaze back to the wood pattern on the table, or his hands, or the wood-paneled walls of the café.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, simply a pastries-and-coffee shop in the town. Maevern thought it was a fitting, economically-priced place to sit down and have a formal yet friendly conversation with Martyn, his friend and coworker.

Maevern rose from the table to place an order at the counter. “What would you like to drink? They have teas, coffee….I’m getting a black coffee personally, would you like one?”

“Life’s too short to suffer through drinking a black coffee, _Sar-Sarnien_.” Martyn batted his eyes.

Maevern exhaled sharply and slammed his hands palm-down back onto the table. “Martyn.” He closed his eyes, inhaled, the exhaled smoother this time. “We’ve been over this. You do _not_ call me Sar-Sarnien. That’s just fucked up.”

“Is it because the double “Sar” sounds absolutely dreadful?”

“Martyn oh my _god_, no, you already know the answer to this. We’ve been over this. We’ve been friends for years, you can just use my first name, no need to ever call me Sarnien. “Sai” is if you’re polite, “Sar” is for a very very high level of respect that simply does not _work_ because I am _not _a king or a noble, I am _simply your coworker._”

“But I respect you!”

“_Martyn _please. Do we have to do this bullshit right now?” Maevern knew Martyn loved to mess with him, and Dharri too for that matter, by butchering use of honorifics. He tried not to laugh or smile, since he knew that’s what the tiny shi wanted, but it was admittedly hard. “I just want to know if you want coffee or tea! And for fuck’s sake, black coffee is _not_ horrible. It tastes fine. I don’t understand why you’re fine with drinking straight grain alcohol like it’s water and you eat a-, you know, well, fuck it, who am I to judge. You’re wearing a lace fluffy dress in a warzone you probably just want sugared milk, don’t you.”

“Well now that’s just plain rude! What does my dress have to do with my tolerance for bitter drinks? You know _damned_ well I can drink black coffee if I need to! But I don’t need to, and I like to enjoy my drinks! I _do _love sugared milk, so you can shut up about that! But what does that have to do with my dress?” Martyn, never missing a possible opportunity to show off his expensive lace dress, stood up and spun in a circle, grinning the whole time. “It’s lovely! What do you have against it!”

“No grown man would wear that dress. Especially, and I cannot stress this enough, in a warzone.”

“Men can wear whatever they like, _Maevern_.”

“They can, and you look splendid in it, but you also look like a twelve year old girl in it, and I’m almost entirely certain that that _was _a dress for a twelve year old girl. If you’re going to wear a dress, perhaps wear a nice, silk gown? Not this frilly mess?”

“But, oh, _Sar-_Maevern, how am I to look this cute if I wear a dull widow’s dress?” Martyn positioned his hands under his chin, tilted his head, and smiled.

“Fuck.” Said Maevern quietly, this time allowing his mouth to form half a laugh. “That’s, that’s just so _stupid, _you need to stop doing that shit. This is-“

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a _waaaaarzone_,” Martyn said in a drawn-out city accent, imitating Maevern. “So what if it’s a warzone! If I’m doing to die, I want to die pretty, not die in a nasty beige linen uniform. Life is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? We’re both going to die any month now anyways, might as well live my life looking however I want and living it as happily as I want. Dharri said I’m allowed to wear this dress, so I’m going to wear it. Would you prefer I took it off? Right now? In this café? And wore nothing? Would you prefer that?”

“Why aren’t you wearing an undergarments under that dress, Martyn.” Maevern really did simply want to order coffee. He only had a few cups so far that morning, and it was simply not enough. Besides, he had ration coffee, not freshly brewed café coffee, and he was looking forward to this for a good long while. He didn’t want to banter with Martyn, not now.

“I never wear undergarments. You know this!”

“Why would I know that!”

“You’ve seen me undress! Many times!”

“Well, that was always in a different context! I didn’t know you _never_ wore undergarments! Not on any occasion? Ever?”

“Never. They’re simply a hassle that I don’t need in my life. Besides, people generally react positively to find out that I’m not wearing them. They think it’s nice and sexy, you know?”

“I thought you were going for the “cute” look, not the “sexy” look. Why are you trying to look like a 12 year old girl if you’re trying to look sexy? Huh? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?”

“Says the man who visited the Damask Rose tavern six years ago. Hmm? Isn’t _that_ kind of fucked up? I looked even more like a 12 year old girl back then. Are you going to comment on _that_?”

“Martyn you’re the same age as I am.”

“You _know _shi age differently. I looked like a child back then.”

Maevern sighed again. He didn’t want to be having this argument, again. “Martyn, you know what, fuck it, _Sai-Nissian_, what would you like to drink?”

Martyn giggled. “Why are you calling me by my last name? And I’d like a vanilla chai latte.”

“That really is just sugared milk with a little tea in it.”

“Well, then maybe that’s what I like! Maybe _you_ should drink a little more sugared milk, and maybe you’d be less grouchy afterwards, hmm? How about that? I can share my drink if you get sick of your horrible black coffee.”

“For the last time, it’s not horrid…you know, fuck it, I’m going to order now.” Maevern walked away from the table finally, and went to the counter. In a glass display case was a tower of pastel-colored macarons. Pink. Lavender. Peach. Some sort off swampy green. “I’d like a large black coffee and a medium, uh, small, no, hmm, medium, yes, medium vanilla chai latte.” He paused a moment and let his eyes drift back to the little pastries. “How much for the macarons?”

The cashier pointed to their price label, clearly displayed in front of them.

Maevern cringed at himself for missing such an obvious label, and cringed again at their price. Why were such small cookie looking things so expensive? However, he _was_ on a high-ranking officer’s salary, he could happily afford to splurge and get him and his friend a treat. “I’d like three of the pink ones, then.”

After paying and waiting a few moments for the drinks to be poured, he returned to the table with the food and drinks. He slid two of the macarons over to Martyn, and kept one for himself.

“Why do I get two?” Martyn inquired, eyes narrowing. “You’re twice my size. You need to eat more. You should have more.”

“No, silly, they’re for you. Look! They’re pink! Just like your stupid hair! I’m not _hungry_ I just wanted to try _one_.”

Martyn silently nibbled one of the macarons, and pushed the 3rd one back towards Maevern insistently.

Maevern pushed it back to Martyn.

Martyn shook his head and glared.

“Martyn oh my god just eat the pastry, you’re so fucking small your body needs carbs and fats in it.”

“Aww,” Martyn smiled again, “you think I’m small?”

“Martyn oh my god you’re 5’4 you know damn well you’re small, quit the bullshit and eat the fucking pastries.”

“But Maev, look how tired you are! You drink all these coffees, you look so _tired_ all the time, and you’re always so grouchy, perhaps you need the sugar? Eat something sweet and pink and you’ll feel better. I insist.”

“I already had one of them!”

“And? Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Then enjoy the second one!”

“No!”

“Maev! Eat the macaron. I’m simply not going to eat it, I don’t want to get fat. I can’t risk my figure like that!”

“That’s bullshit Martyn. You’ll never get fat, you fuck around with your metabolism too much for that. You’re horribly thin as is. Do I need to _command_ you to eat the damn macaron? As a military officer I can do that, tell the others what they need to do for their health and whatnot, as a military precaution.”

“I’m a civilian.”

“Martyn oh my god I just want to drink my coffee, why are you making this so difficult!”

Martyn reached over to the macaron, broke it in half, and placed on half in his mouth. He then reached his arm out as far as it could go, offering the second half to Maevern. “Eat it,” he commanded.

Maevern leaned over, rolled his eyes, and took the macaron. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he delighted in their delicate texture and flowery flavor. What _was_ pink flavor? Was it rose? It smelled like rose. Perhaps it was rose. He loved rose, really. One rarely gets to, quite literally, smell roses when in a warzone. Dharri used to use expensive rosewater. Oh, right. Dharri. That was the intent of this meeting.

“Martyn.” Said Maevern, this time with full seriousness, sitting upright in his chair as if this was a businesslike interview. “I’m sure you know what we rode all the way here to talk about.”

“I honestly don’t, sorry.” Martyn had his suspicions. Perhaps Maevern was going to have an emotional breakdown again and cry into his arms, but he doubted Maev would choose a public place for that. Perhaps Maevern was going to talk to him about some military plan, but then, why wouldn’t Dharri be invited to such a meeting? Perhaps Maevern simply was expressing interest in him. They _had_ drunkenly done regrettable things in the past. “Is this a date?” Martyn asked earnestly. It _looked_ like a date.

“What? No! This isn’t a date! I’d never date you, no, fuck.”

“Well that’s just hurtful! Why wouldn’t you date me!”

“Because you look like a fucking 12 year old girl!”

“And? That never stopped you in the past!”

“Because you’re my coworker.”

“Oh, as if you’ve never dated coworkers before?”

“Shut _up¸ _do _not_ bring that shit up in public. Uncalled for.”

“Well, I think it’s uncalled for to say that you wouldn’t date me! And lie about finding me attractive!”

“Fine. I wouldn’t date you because I know damn well your heart belongs to Dharri, and I wouldn’t fuck with that, ever. Which is exactly what I came here to talk with you about. You’re making a huge mistake and you’re too naïve and blind to see it.”

“I’m not naïve. I’m your same age,” Martyn countered.

“Shut up, you’re naïve.”

“I’ve dated more people than you.”

“Repeat customers do not count as dating. None of them loved you.”

“Fuck off Maev, some of them absolutely loved me, it just never worked out.”

“I’m sorry! But none of that was dating! You didn’t have free agency, you were blackout drunk for 100% of it, none of that was real. Now, you’re fully free, you’re out here living your own adult life, making your own adult choices, _this_ is real. And look at you. You’ve caught feelings for Dharri.”

“It’s not that obvious.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s obvious. We can all see how you look at him! I’ve never seen such unveiling longing in someone’s eyes. You’re lovestruck. You directly _tell him_ you’re in love with him. We all hear you saying these things. And what about all the _disgusting_ things you’ve told me? How you sneak into his things at night and apply some of his expensive lip balm so you can taste what it would feel like to kiss him? Huh? What about when you told me that? Did you honestly think I didn’t know you were in love with him?”

“So what if I am! He’s an easy man to fall in love with.”

“Oh, Martyn.” Maevern shook his head. “He really is, isn’t he? Dharri is beautiful. He’s funny. He’s elegant. He’s charismatic. He’s just such a _fun_ man, isn’t he? Who wouldn’t fall for him, indeed. So many do! So many! You’ve heard about his reputation! Everyone wants him! Everyone! You know this.”

“I do,” Martyn admitted.

“Have you ever wondered why he’s still unmarried? A prince? Unmarried, at his age? He’s been in one engagement, several serious relationships, countless flings, unnumbered hookups, and not a single one of these pairings worked out. Not a single one. Have you ever wondered why? Wondered what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s not that old.”

“What you’re not understanding is that he hasn’t broken up with anyone. They always break up with him. The problem here, again and again, is him. Are you understanding what I’m saying?”

“Well, I think you’re being quite mean about it, to be honest. I know you had a tumultuous and scandalous relationship with him, but that was six years ago! Just because what you had with him didn’t work out, doesn’t mean what I might have won’t either. It’s been six years! He’s matured!”

“He absolutely has _not_. Ahrviel broke up with him as well, and that was less than a year ago. You think he’s splendid, don’t you? You think he’s the friendlist, most lovely man you’ve ever met, and you think he’ll treat you right? You think he’ll kiss you every night before you sleep?”

“No. He doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. We just cuddle.”

“Well, that’s, I’ll admit that’s a little off the rhythm for him, usually his relationships are highly physical.”

“See!” Martyn insisted. “What Dharri and I have is different.”

“I don’t care how much he cuddles you and cares about you and holds you at night, he’s still _Dharri, _and Dharri is not ready for a relationship. He’s…he’s a lot, you know?”

“I’m also a lot. I’ve seen his breakdowns and his trauma. He’s seen mine. I don’t think-“

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Trauma is fine. My issue with him isn’t his trauma. It’s that he’s a selfish, careless, and immature man. He’s reckless. He indulges himself into situations regardless of the consequences. He knows he’s too pretty and too rich and too royal for any consequence to truly touch him. So he’ll happily let you get hurt. He’ll hurt you directly, too. Have you seen him angry? You know how the Eltorrien family is. They’ll rip you apart.”

“He’s never yelled at me! I’ve seen him get angry, I’ve seen him get frustrated, I’ve seen him be displeased with _me_ when I make mistakes or we accidentally hurt each other, but he never hurts me intentionally or yells at me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He would.”

“He absolutely would _not, _Maev.”

“You’ll see. You’ll get to date him some day, you’ll have to deal with him, you’ll see how annoying he is, and how he’ll discard you and let you deal with the political and emotional consequences of a breakup.”

Martyn grew outwardly frustrated with Maevern’s words. “Stop! Stop it! I know you’re bitter! I know you’re bitter because you and him didn’t work out, and because you’re too emotionally repressed to find your own love, but he’s not an awful man! He’s an incredibly caring, tender man. If he were some selfish monster who simply used up people and discarded them, don’t you think he would have fucked me by now? He’s getting no gain from me at the moment. He simply cares about me, that is all. He hasn’t dated me. He said he cares about me, and we share a tent and hold each other because it’s hard to sleep alone. I’ve been nothing but difficult, too! Oh, fuck, Maevern, why can’t you understand this either? Do you think seven years of working at the tavern left me an emotionally-prepared, socially-conscious bachelor? Do you think I wasn’t also difficult and reckless? I’m aware that Dharri has his issues! But who doesn’t! Maybe he’s hard to love, maybe he’s easy to love, he’s a little bit of both I suppose, but he’s more than just his immaturities.”

“I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m sorry. That’s all.”

“You haven’t sipped your coffee, yet,” Martyn reminded Maevern, changing the subject slightly. “It’ll get cold.”

“I don’t really care about the coffee.”

“You care about me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Maevern admitted without hesitation.

Martyn got up from his seat at the table, walked over to Maevern, and hugged him. He knew Maevern hated public displays of affection, but he also knew Maevern silently craved any form of it, and he also knew very few other ways to express his own affection. A hug would suffice. “I care about you too. I don’t mean to sound dismissive of your experiences. But, as naïve as I may be, and blinded by love, I think you’re also blinded, to the same degree. I think we should give Dharri a chance.”

“You’re going to get your heart broken, you sweet little thing.”

“I’d gladly break my heart for him.”

“You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.”

“It’s too late!” Martyn smiled and shook his head. “It really is too late! I love him with a corner of my heart I didn’t know existed, and I’ll continue to love him forever or die trying. As I said before, life is incredibly fragile, isn’t it? I’d rather die with love in my heart here, then die isolating myself from a man I love out of fear. And oh, Maev, but what if it _did_ work out? What if things didn’t collapse?”

“You really think he’d date a shi pro- you, uh, someone like you? With your social caste?”

“I don’t think Dharri gives much of a fuck about social consequences anymore. I mean, he runs a rogue offshoot of the military. And he’s immortal. I don’t think much bothers him these days.”

“They why haven’t he already confessed his love for you?”

“He has. Sort of.”

“Then why aren’t you two already dating?”

“He told me it’s because he didn’t want to hurt me. That he ends up hurting everyone he gets too close to. I think he’s just as scared of this as you are, based on his past experiences. He’s living in some sort of universe of post-traumatic love. I don’t know when he’ll come around. But it’s not because of apathy or lack of love. Perhaps it’s because he cares _too much_. I don’t know.”

“That’s…new. For him.”

“Perhaps he is growing then, hmm, Maev?” Martyn paused to drink some of his own cup. It hasn’t gotten cold yet, but it wasn’t boiling hot. The vanilla was of perfect strength, and the drink was of perfect sweetness.

“Perhaps.”

“Besides, I think it’s a little silly to worry so much about the future if we don’t even know what the future holds. In a few months, we could likely all be dead with the empire collapsed. Raven is making advances we can’t stop. I don’t really care to worry about possible losses. I care about right now, and right now, I’m in love, and I think that’s just fine. I don’t think it’s idiotic of me.”

“Martyn, I really wish I could simply tell you to go forth and be happy with him. I really could. But I worry.”

“I know. Thank you for the coffee.”

Maevern smiled. “I don’t think I can really call what you’re drinking, “coffee,” can I?”

“Oh, shut up,” Martyn laughed, “It’s tasty! Go ahead and enjoy your bitter black water, Maev, be miserable.”

“Well! Maybe I just will!” Maevern raised his eyebrows, tilted the cup back, and took a few large sips of the drink before placing it back down on the table.

Martyn giggled, lifted his cup, and proceeded to chug all of it.

“For fucks sake, Martyn!”


End file.
